


Thwarted

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Pregnancy Kink, yuuripreg week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 13:46:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12985332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Yuuri snorts. "Not evenyouwould've taken 'Victor, I fantasize about getting pregnant' seriously."





	Thwarted

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in like four hours and is completely unbeta'd -- and it shows. Any and all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Written for the "Impregnation" prompt of Knock Yuuri Katsuki Up Week (note: there is no actual impregnation, only impregnation kink). Thanks to the mods (lavenderprose in particular) for turning this idea into goddamn _gold_. Y'all are the best!

When Chris broaches the topic, Victor isn't listening. All of his attention is on the newcomer from Cherkasy, whose jumps are so good that even that stuffy French judge with the obviously fake hair would overlook the kid's less than stellar footwork. The triple lutz at the start of the routine was like watching a bird take to the sky in a fundamental twist of pure physics. Victor's never seen anything like it. Not to mention the kid looks like he could lift Victor and break him in half over his knee. What the hell are they _eating_ in the Ukraine? They're going to have to get Yurio on that diet, because if Victor gets another 2 a.m. screaming phone call about growth spurts and the lack thereof, it's going to end up on the 11 o'clock news.

Movement at his side tunes him back into the conversation just in time to hear Chris say wryly, "Too bad that _you_ couldn't give him a couple."

Laughing, Yuuri pats his stomach with a hand covered in crystals and peacock feathers, and playfully knocks his shoulder against Victor. "As if I'd want to be put through my paces twice as hard to get rid of the baby weight."

It takes Victor a second to get what they're even talking about. When he does, the ground drops.

Chris opens his mouth and says something that breaks several obscenity laws if the way Yuuri flushes to the roots of his hair is any indication, but Victor hears only the pound of blood in his ears—a heartbeat that flutters high and fast, captured in black and white on a screen.

Phantom hands reach up from the gordian knot of pure _want_ in his chest to dig covetous fingers through his brain matter, pulling it apart like putty, leaving him fixed and numb to everything except the temptation of Yuuri's belly. He stares at it—flattened by a strict diet and a core workout plan that would make Jillian Michaels weep for not having come up with it first—and wants to reach out and fit his hand over a swell that isn't there.

But what if it were there?

Oh, if it _were_ , he'd flood the #proudpapa and #fromrussiawithlove Instagram tags with snapshots of every little bit of belly growth until his followers flee in droves. He'd drag Yuuri to any and all baby boutiques in the developed world—Bob  & Blossom in London; Beaba in Paris; Petit Bateau Daikanyama in Tokyo; Tsentral'niy Detskiy Magazin in Moscow—and clear out the entire maternity section of A Pea in the Pod, then make Yuuri model each and every item for him. He'd have them sit down for a thousand interviews and make sure that the good people at home didn't just _know_ how much he loved his growing family, but would shove it down their greedy throats so hard that they'd choke all the way to the YouTube comments section to express their envy and well-wishes. He'd have Annie Liebovitz capture them in black and white, in sepia, in technicolor, curled into each other like quotation marks while highlighting the planetary curve of Yuuri's belly. He'd write names upon names—Airi and Kaito and Jomei and Alexey and Mitsu and Irina—in indelible chalk, change his mind every ten seconds until someone took the board away from him, and in the end go with whatever Yuuri suggests. He'd legally name both Yurio and Makkachin the godparents, because if anything happened to him or Yuuri, he would need to know that the child would be taken care of. He would do everything in his power to make sure their legacy would be safe.

"... tor…"

And Yuuri—oh god, _Yuuri_ —with his boyish grins and bottomless heart would be the most incredible father. He'd happily endure the strange topography of a new body and the indignity of swollen ankles just to have the chance to wake up for 2AM feedings. He would laugh through diaper changes, would dance slowly about the room and rock the precious bundle in his arms through lullabies and silly stories about dogs named Viichan and Makkachin, would _love_ the child forged by ice and love and everything good in the world, housed within himself. Victor wants to be part of it—the miracle of creation as only Yuuri Katsuki could bring to the universe.

"... Why is he staring at you like that?"

"Honestly, he does it so often I don't even notice it anymore. Vitya, snap out of it."

As a boy, he used to dream of being the one to change the world, but now, in this moment, he wants nothing more than to step back and watch his and Yuuri's child do it better than he ever could have alone. The Nikiforov-Katsuki heir would ascend to claim their birthright and set the world ablaze—armed with Victor's impeccable sense of style and Yuuri's perfect everything. They'd be unstoppable.

" _Victor!_ "

He knows that the hand that cuffs him around the back of the head belongs to Chris, because Yuuri has this weird hangup about concussions and Chris has never passed up an opportunity to smack some sense into him.

"Ow,  _what_ ," he demands, rubbing a hand through his hair. The glitter gel in it rasps a warning about messing up Yulia's hard work—she practically sold her soul to the devil to make his hair coif like this, and she'd hand deliver him to Satan personally if she knew he so much as thought about touching it.

"You zoned out for a second there," Yuuri says, mouth pursed with worry. "You're up next, but… are you okay to go on?"

The look that Chris turns on him is so damn knowing that it deserves a diploma. "Yeah, Victor, are you _okay_?"

It wouldn't do for five-time champion Victor Nikiforov to cut his longtime friend with a skate and then abscond with his husband to have wild sex in a stairwell, so Victor straightens his collar and lifts his chin, flashing them a haughty smile. Time to bring the pain. "If you'll both excuse me, I have a kid from Cherkasy to completely destroy."

They follow him to the entrance to the ice. With an encouraging smile, Yuuri brushes a sweet kiss across Victor's cheek.

"Good luck," he murmurs, and indulges Victor in some shameless snuggling before pushing him away with a bashful laugh. Behind them flash thousands of cameras, like mini supernovas. That little clinch will no doubt be the headlining story on Buzzfeed come morning.

With a smooth swivel of his hips, he puts one skate into the rink and waves in response to the roar of the crowd—

Chris's smile is a red flag that goes entirely ignored as he simpers, "Yeah, break a leg, _daddy."_

—which turns to a collective gasp as Victor lands face-first on the ice.

 

+

 

"Honestly, it isn't that bad," Yuuri flat-out lies. To his credit, he's holding the ice pack to Victor's nose firm and steady, even though their Uber driver seems bound and determined to hit every single pothole on the way back to their hotel. "Plus, I think you're the first skater with two black eyes to place at Skate Canada."

Victor flinches as the car rolls over what must be the surface of Mars, but things could be worse: Yuuri insisted on Victor using his lap as a pillow and the burn mark in the upholstery above him makes for an interesting puzzle. It's either a dragon or three people engaged in daisy-chain blowjobs, and surprisingly enough he's leaning toward the former.

"Oh, you got a text from Yurio!" A pause. "Oh. Uh."

"Is it just a bunch of skull emojis?" Victor's received that one so many times that it's basically just Yurio's way of asking how things are.

Yuuri sighs. "It's that Ursula laughing gif."

Victor would roll his eyes if it wouldn't hurt like hell, so he settles for closing them—which isn't an easy feat considering how much packing is shoved up his newly-set nose. He attempts to pass the time by picking through the minefield of his short program's mistakes, but all he can concentrate on is the press of Yuuri's belly against his cheek. Every time it rises with a breath, it feels like it's grown in size. Like there's something in there.

"When we get back to the hotel, I'll go to the nearest pharmacy and fill your prescription," Yuuri goes on, running his fingers through Victor's hair. Well, he's _trying_ to run his fingers through Victor's hair. Damn Yulia and her glitter gel.

"I thought your step sequence was wonderful."

Victor snorts, then immediately regrets it. _Ow_. "You're the only one who thinks so."

"Well, I might've been the only one who wasn't focused on the blood," Yuuri concedes with a sigh. "But you pushed through and made the podium, Victor. Silver isn't anything to sneeze at—especially when it's won with a broken nose."

Silver isn't anything to sneeze at. That's… not untrue. "Say 'silver' in Japanese."

"What? You know exactly how to—"

"I want to hear _you_ say it. Please, my Yuuri?" Victor whimpers a little to really sell it.

Yuuri sighs, but it's fond. " _Gin-iro_."

Slightly better than Russian, but nothing he'd want to saddle someone with for all eternity. "What about gold?"

"You're such a dork," Yuuri says. " _Kin_."

Russian definitely wins that round. But maybe this isn't the way to go about it; no one wants to find out they were named after a medal. Maybe this whole thing is ridiculous and, if his performance tonight is anything to go by, dangerous. The universe is obviously trying to tell him to stop being so greedy all the time and just be happy with what he has. After years of hollow fame and loneliness so crushing that the thought of standing on the ice ever again was utter agony, Victor finally has the love and companionship of which he always desired. He's married to his soulmate, he's back on the ice and at the top of his game, and he's no doubt going to get incredible 'you broke your nose' pity sex tonight. To want for more is just asking for trouble.

Fine. He'll never think about getting Yuuri Katsuki pregnant ever again.

Yuuri shakes his shoulder lightly, prompting Victor to open his eyes and look up. "Hey, before we go back to the hotel, would you mind if we hit a drive-through somewhere? I've got the worst cravings right now."

Well, so much for that.

 

+

 

Once Yuuri's had his fill of Swiss Chalet and they make a run to the nearest Shoppers Drug Mart for Victor's antibiotics, they go back to the hotel for some of the most awkward sex Victor can ever remember having. Not being able to kiss is weird; not being able to kiss Yuuri is the _worst_.

"I still can't believe you broke your nose," Yuuri hisses, as Victor licks a stripe up Yuuri's neck while simultaneously trying to keep said nose away from him. The bandage taped across his face makes it doubly ridiculous. "Vitya, please—"

"I'm _trying_." Victor pulls back to see Yuuri's bitten-red mouth, glowing like a bullseye, and he wants to maul it with his tongue.

With a whine, Yuuri pushes him back. Before Victor can protest, Yuuri walks Victor backwards, intent heavy in his eyes as they move toward the freshly-made bed. "Maybe we could just… skip the foreplay tonight."

Victor doesn't do anything so dramatic as cross his arms and stamp his feet, but he really wants to. He _loves_ foreplay. Every slow touch, every kiss, every whispered word—it's like giving directions to heaven, and it never fails to drive Yuuri out of his mind. Usually around the time that Yuuri's legs grow twitchy and restless, Victor will suck on his nipples until he practically begs to be stuffed full of cock. Skipping all that is sacrilege.

Cocking an eyebrow, Yuuri spins them both around until he's the one closest to the bed, then falls back gracefully onto the sheets, legs spread in wicked invitation. He reaches up for his glasses and tosses them over the other side of the bed. His cock is full and flushed, resting against his stomach, which—weighed down by gravity—is almost concave.

Victor stares. It shouldn't look as wrong as it does.

Yuuri smiles, beckoning with a crooked finger and a cheeky smile. "I'd say winning silver with a broken nose means that you can have anything you want."

"A-Anything?" Victor's breath leaves him in a woosh.

"Anything," Yuuri purrs. He makes good on that by twisting gracefully to reach for the bedside table where they'd dumped a whole bunch of loose condoms the previous night. He snatches one between his index and middle fingers, then tosses it over. The foil square hits Victor right in the chest, then falls to the floor.

"Well?" It's not impatience that colors Yuuri's voice, but that same fond indulgence from earlier in the Uber. "What are you waiting for?"

Swallowing hard, Victor looks down at the condom and thinks, _Wherever you fall, there shall you be buried._

"Could we… not use it?"

"What?" Yuuri blinks, then slowly pushes himself up to sit. He squints. "Not use… what? The condom?"

"Yes."

He can practically hear the record scratch.

Yuuri might not be able to fully see the expression on Victor's face, but Victor was blessed with perfect vision and can see cocktail of confusion, uncertainty, and—worst of all—fear splashed all over Yuuri's.

When they stood before each other in the eyes of God, Victor vowed to honor, cherish, and protect Yuuri. That if Yuuri opened up enough to invite Victor in, it would never be taken for granted. It hasn't even been a year and he couldn't manage even _that_ much.

"Yuuri—"

"We've… never discussed it," Yuuri says haltingly, and Victor chances a look to gauge how badly he's messed up. By some miracle, Yuuri doesn't look angry or appalled. Mostly he just looks bemused. "I thought that when we _did_ … stop using them, we'd talk about it first."

Victor draws air into his collapsing lungs to tell Yuuri to forget everything, already bending down to retrieve the condom, when Yuuri once again surprises the hell out of him.

"Is this about what Chris said earlier?"

Exhaling shakily, Victor looks up to where Yuuri is sitting on the edge of the bed. The fear from before is, thankfully, gone. It's been replaced by something else and it takes Victor a few moments to figure out by what.

"Vitya," Yuuri says, a little sly, even with the pink in his cheeks. "Is that what this is about? Getting me… _you know_."

There's nothing for it. If he manages to get out of this by being mocked and not brutally divorced, he'll take it. Victor stands up and attempts to meet Yuuri's gaze. He makes it as far as Yuuri's collarbones. "Yuuri, it's… It's impossible and stupid and probably insulting, I know, and we'll never have to speak of it again. Just… don't be angry with me? I didn't mean—"

The collarbones start shivering, then shaking, and Victor recoils in horror because if he made Yuuri _cry_ over this, Victor will walk into Lake Ontario.

"Oh my _god_ ," Yuuri howls. He falls back into the bed and begins cackling dementedly, pressing shaking hands to his mouth that do nothing to stop the frankly _uncalled for_ laughter. He sounds like something out of _Planet Earth_. In its death throes.

Victor crosses his arms, suddenly very self-conscious despite his nudity, and waits for Yuuri to finish. And waits.

And waits.

Through his tears, Yuuri manages to get out, "Was the 'silver' and 'gold' thing about _baby names_?"

Suddenly a brutal divorce doesn't seem so terrible. "Okay, _first_ of all—"

" _Vitya_ _!_ " Yuuri breaks into a fresh round of David Attenborough-worthy laughter.

Rolling his eyes, Victor casts about for his trousers, because he doesn't have to stand here and take this when there's a perfectly good pool downstairs that he can drown himself in, but before he gets two feet there are warm arms wrapping around him from behind. Yuuri buries his smile into Victor's bare back.

"It's not what you think," Yuuri snickers.

"I think it's exactly what I think," Victor mutters, but ever since he first caught a glimpse of that smile it's been his only weakness. Well, and the way Makkachin dances when Victor says "Wanna go for a walk," but mostly that smile. Having it against his bare skin is more than enough to completely disarm him. He sighs and drops his shoulders, unable to do anything except relax back into Yuuri's embrace and trust that he won't let Victor fall.

Yuuri, of course, doesn't. He tightens his hold as if he thinks Victor might try and get away. "Vitya, I wasn't laughing because you want to… _you know_."

"Oh, please tell me you were laughing _with_ me, Yuuri," Victor says, flat as a board.

At that, Yuuri pulls back and forces Victor to turn around, keeping his hands on Victor's arms like they belong there. In the dim light of the room, Yuuri's wedding band shines like a star, but it's completely outdone by that _smile_.

"As a matter of fact…" Yuuri looks down at their feet, but Victor can still see the rising flush of pink that he's trying to hide. "The truth is… even after we got… you know, tested, and then married, I wanted to keep using the condoms."

The bottom of Victor's stomach drops. "Yuuri, do you not… trust me?"

"It's not that, Vitya. Never that," Yuuri hurries to assure him, and the earnest look in his eyes does more to assuage the hurt than words ever could. "It's just that… when we used them, I could pretend."

"Pretend?"

"That they were the only thing keeping me from getting… _you know_." Yuuri darts a glance at him, then back down at the floor. Then back at him when it's becoming apparent that Victor isn't following his train of thought.

Victor looks around the room for help, then tries, "From getting wet?"

"What? No." There's no doubt in Victor's mind that Yuuri wants to drop his head onto Victor's chest and rethink his life choices, but Yuuri holds firm. "From getting… Vitya, what are condoms primarily used for?"

"Oh, from getting an STI."

"For the love of— _pregnant_ , Vitya! From getting _pregnant!_ " Yuuri shakes him like he expects candy, or a clue, to fall out. "I liked that we used them because then I could pretend they were stopping me from getting pregnant! That we were one faulty bit of latex away from…"

Smiling helplessly, Yuuri reaches for Victor's hand and places it gently, reverently, on his own belly.

Victor looks down at where his fingers cup the startlingly vulnerable stretch of skin, rising and falling with Yuuri's breath, and then lifts his gaze to drink in Yuuri's shy, hopeful smile.

"You…" Except Victor can't find the air in the room, so he just chokes a little while Yuuri shrugs and covers Victor's hand with his own. "You want…"

"We never talked about children and I honestly never thought about having them, until we went to New York last year. Do you remember signing an autograph for that woman with the bright red hair? You couldn't stop asking her where she got her scarf. Then you noticed her baby bump and you kept putting your hands all over it, and all I could think is 'His hands should be on _me_ and _our_ baby.'" Yuuri's smile trembles at the edges, threatening to fold like a paper crane. "I'd never been so jealous in my life, and so angry, because I couldn't give you that. I wanted it so badly that I would stay up at night and just _stare_ at myself in the mirror, hoping that if I wished hard enough that I'd… change."

He's found Yuuri in their bathroom on several occasions, studying his physique in their full-length mirror. He always laughed and accused Yuuri of narcissism, and Yuuri would join in and say things like "You'd know," but now the memories are cast into a new light by this revelation. Was Yuuri's laughter always so high-pitched and thin? Was his smile always that sad?

Helpless, Victor stares at Yuuri, who gives a chuckle. It sounds like metal in a garbage disposal.

"After that, sex was different. For me, at least. It was still good, but I couldn't help feel… hm, thwarted. Until you pulled out a condom one day and said 'Don't want to get you in trouble!' And then suddenly it was—god, Victor, it was like a light switch flipped. All I could think was that if we didn't use protection, it might happen. The fantasy suddenly became… real."

Unbidden, the image of Yuuri holding an Amazon Prime box filled with hundreds of Kimono Ultra Thins rises to the forefront of his mind, and his jaw goes slack. They went through that entire box in less than a month.

"Why—" Victor's tongue is like Nutella, thick and stuck to the roof of his mouth. He swallows around it and tries again. "Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

Yuuri snorts. "Not even _you_ would've taken 'Victor, I fantasize about getting pregnant' seriously."

"I would've!" Maybe. After he stopped laughing, at least. But therein lies Yuuri's point, because it wasn't until the idea was planted in a situation outside of discussing sex that Victor even let it take hold. And to think that if Chris hadn't opened his big mouth earlier tonight, Yuuri would've been dreaming about it for the rest of his life alone.

But the cat's out of the bag now, and begging for Victor to get it pregnant.

"Yuuri," he says, a burning ember blowing into a flame deep in his gut, and lowers his head to press a hint of teeth to the spot on Yuuri's neck that never fails to make him gasp.

Yuuri gasps.

"Vitya—"

It's only by the grace of his recent spate of gym visits that he's able to so easily lift Yuuri into his arms without the need for practice runs, and Yuuri obligingly wraps his legs around Victor's waist, shifting his weight until they're perfectly balanced. This new position puts Yuuri's chest within reach of his mouth and he leans forward, fitting his tongue around a soft nipple that quickly hardens beneath the wet heat of his regard.

"Oh my god." Yuuri jolts like he's touched a live wire and Victor pulls back with a yelp, because _ow_. His nose throbs in warning. "Oh, Vitya, I'm sorry—"

Fuck it. This is why plastic surgeons exist.

Victor sucks his nipple back into his mouth, worries it with his tongue like he might soon taste the trickle of body-warm milk, and walks back to the bed. He kicks the condom out of sight as he passes.

As soon as he's on the sheets, Yuuri immediately lifts his chin to gaze adoringly at Victor, who feels every bit the beast as he advances on the display laid out before him. Yuuri sucks in a shaky breath and flutters convincingly, "But Victor—we need to be safe. If we're not, you could get me _pregnant_."

Dammit. He owes Chris _so_ much for this.

"Ah, Yuuri." He puts a hand on each of Yuuri's knees and snaps them apart, opening him wide. "I'm counting on it."

They'll never in a hundred years be able to thwart biology, but god, they're going to so much fun trying.


End file.
